Snowflake Challenge Day 1: Happy Place
Jan. 12th, 2019 09:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bee_museOooooh boy.
A big (but not too big) whitewashed room, with enough sunlight streaming in to form golden patches on the walls, some of the well-beloved, dog-eared books lending colour to the walls, the old china tile that is too cheap and quaint now on the floor. Stories spooling from the books, from the worlds I am not just building with B, but also getting the actual time to fill out. The possibility of filling them till there are finished and we can stop and move to the next one. The smell of glue and sellotape for the really old, just as a paperback and not-fancy books inherited from the parents and grandparents. The baby siblings bickering in the corner and plaguing us so that we start cooking, baking, agreeing to whoever has the louder voice. The dog supervising us all, looking like he did when Baba was alive, less lost, more surefooted. The mater knitting or beginning to read at a corner and arguing just as much. Peace. The possibility of quiet when they settle down. Of welcome solitude. The assurance that this won't be disrupted by a phone call or a "grown up errand" that can't have waited.
A big (but not too big) whitewashed room, with enough sunlight streaming in to form golden patches on the walls, some of the well-beloved, dog-eared books lending colour to the walls, the old china tile that is too cheap and quaint now on the floor. Stories spooling from the books, from the worlds I am not just building with B, but also getting the actual time to fill out. The possibility of filling them till there are finished and we can stop and move to the next one. The smell of glue and sellotape for the really old, just as a paperback and not-fancy books inherited from the parents and grandparents. The baby siblings bickering in the corner and plaguing us so that we start cooking, baking, agreeing to whoever has the louder voice. The dog supervising us all, looking like he did when Baba was alive, less lost, more surefooted. The mater knitting or beginning to read at a corner and arguing just as much. Peace. The possibility of quiet when they settle down. Of welcome solitude. The assurance that this won't be disrupted by a phone call or a "grown up errand" that can't have waited.
